Through the Haze
by x0-vindicated-0x
Summary: When Derek inadvertently captures a serious crime on camera, he discovers both his and Casey's lives are at risk. What lengths will he go to to protect them both? [Dasey] [Reposted by request]
1. Chapter 1

**Note: This is not entirely a new story. I wrote this back in 2007 and took it down in 2013 because I wanted to revamp it. I was 15 when I wrote this story for the first time, and I felt that the plot deserved better writing than I was able to give it at the time. I have since gotten a lot of requests for people looking to re-read the story, and so I have begun to edit it into a (hopefully) better written version so that anyone looking to read it can do so again.**

**If by chance you are reading this for the first time, then I hope you enjoy.**

**Chapter One:**

It had been a fairly typical day for Derek so far. He had missed his alarm and slept through most of his morning classes, not that he was all too bothered by that. He'd managed to make it to his Political Science class only to discover he'd left his textbook back at the apartment. As a result, he was the target of a fifteen minute lecture on the importance of accountability as a university student, most of which he tuned out as he ironically doodled in his notebook. To top of his disorganized day, he'd then realized that he had left his wallet home on the table (probably next to his forgotten textbook.) Derek could put up with a crappy morning, but missing out on lunch just wasn't going to fly.

So when his lunch break rolled around, he found himself crossing campus to the English building, where he knew he'd find the one person he always counted on to pick up his slack.

Sure enough, he spotted Casey sitting beneath an oak tree on grass in front of the English building. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he sauntered in her direction. She was propped up against the tree, her gaze focused on the textbook in her lap.

He slid down beside her, grinning mischievously.

"Hey Space Case," he greeted, in a friendly tone that probably gave away the fact that he was looking for a favour.

"Busy."

He ignored her. "What are you reading?"

She shrugged.

"I'm trying to pick a poem to write my paper on," she explained. "My prof said that we could pick any piece in the book, so long as we're prepared to write a five page paper on it's literary devices, imagery and theme."

"Hence why I'm not pursuing an English degree," he replied. "Five pages is more words than I can manage in a week."

"Five pages is more words than you _know,_" she reminded him, only half joking. He briefly considered retaliating with a snide comment, but decided against it. He needed to get on her good side.

"Touche," he dismissed, shifting to get comfortable. "You hungry? I was thinking of driving somewhere off campus to grab some lunch."

He waited, squinting into the sunlight and folding his arms across his chest. Casey sighed heavily, flipping through a few more pages in her book. Clearly, she was too distracted to have heard a word he'd said.

"Come on," he tried again, nudging her arm with his shoulder. "We could go to one of those lame little bistros you love so much. You know, with the fancy umbrellas on the decks." More silence. "Doesn't that sound like fun? Me, you… the fresh air…"

"My money paying for it all…" she finished for him in a knowing but amused tone. "That's where this was headed, right?"

He didn't even consider lying; she knew him like an open book. Shrugging shamelessly, he nodded.

"Pretty much," he admitted. "So is that a yes? Care to buy your wonderful stepbrother some lunch?"

Casey rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to her book.

"Not really, nope."

"Come on, Case. A man needs nourishment."

"So drive home and make yourself a damn sandwich."

He let the comeback roll of his back, unbothered. "I'll be your best friend," he teased in a sing-song voice, throwing in a playful shoulder shove for good measure.

And while she looked annoyed, he saw the beginnings of a smile work its way onto her lips despite herself and he knew that he had won her over.

"You're already my best friend," she pointed out, but she closed her book and began to pack her things away anyhow.

Derek frowned at that, his cheeks flushing at her statement. While it was true, he still hated openly admitting how close they were now. The two of them had managed to get their act together during their senior year of high school, when their parents had hit a rough patch. There had been a lot of fighting for a little while, mostly over financial worries as Derek and Casey started thinking about university. George and Nora had smoothed things over, had gotten past the fighting, but the result of their fighting had been that their two eldest had realized just how much they didn't want the other one out of their lives. They'd actually come to spend a bit of time together over those few months, mostly complaining about their parents' immaturity, and eventually they'd come to form a pretty decent bond. Even when their parents had patched things up, they'd continued spending more time together. Needless to say, Derek still loved to annoy the hell out of her, and she would be the first to admit that he still irritated her to no end. But things were different now. Now, underneath it all, they understood that they were friends.

Nonetheless, Derek was still Derek and he loved to fight her on the matter.

"Who says we're best friends?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

She tilted her head at him pointedly, at which he shrugged, waving a hand.

"Fine fine, whatever," he dismissed. "But you're only helping support my argument. Friends take each other out to lunch, correct?"

Zipping up her book bag, she pushed herself up onto her feet. "If I buy you lunch, will you shut up?"

He nodded his head happily and extended a hand to her, grinning.

"Gladly."

She laughed as she gripped his hand, pulling him to his feet. Slinging her book bag over her shoulder, they began to walk in the direction of the Media building, where Derek had parked his car that morning.

"Did I mention that I'm picking the restaurant?" she teased. "And I'm in the mood for vegan."

* * *

><p>"That was disgusting."<p>

"It was healthy."

"There wasn't a single ounce of meat!"

"Because it was a vegan restaurant, goofball."

"Then it wasn't a real meal," Derek countered, pouting to prove his point. "That's the last time I let you take me anywhere for lunch."

She grinned victoriously. "I'll consider my mission accomplished."

Without another word, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and quickened her pace, walking away from a battle she knew she had won. He gaped after her, considering his best route to retaliation. He hated it when she won; but on the other hand, she was pretty damn adorable when she was proud of her accomplishments. He decided to let this one slide.

"You planned that, McDonald," he accused, though his tone was playful. "I know you did. I always knew there was a manipulative side to you."

They continued walking along a busy Toronto sidewalk, dodging passerbyers at every turn. It was lunch hour, so the streets were crowded with businessmen coming and going, talking a mile a minute into their smartphones as they struggled not to spill their coffee onto their expensive, snazzy suits. Taxis were pulling in and out from the curbside every couple of feet, dropping people off and picking up those who waved them down.

"Weird that the power went out," Casey commented.

Derek wasn't bothered. "They made my food in time, that's all that matters."

As they approached the crosswalk leading into a wide open park, Derek dug into the black bag hanging from his shoulder, rooting around for his video camera. As a Film Studies major, he always had his camera on hand- a brand new Canon VIXIA his mother had gotten for him for Christmas as a reward for finishing his first year of university."

Smirking, he flipped the display screen outward and powered the device up. Tapping the record button, he aimed the lens at the back of Casey's head as she waited for a safe time to cross; the traffic lights were down, pursuant to the power outage that had apparently knocked out power to the entire block.

"Casey McDonald, age twenty-one," he said in a mock-announcer voice. "Currently pursuing an English degree at the University of Toronto, residing with her awesome stepbrother, Derek Venturi in the bustling city of Toronto."

She glanced back at him long enough to spot the camera.

"-very unhappily, I might add." But her words were followed by a smile, and he was hit square in the chest by the beauty of it. He glanced at her, the real her instead of the tiny picture on his display screen, because it could never do her justice. The breeze ruffled her hair gently as the noonday sun beat down on them from behind him. The glare made her squint into the sunlight, casting her in a light that only added to her beauty.

He broke out of his trance when she turned away, nodding towards the traffic that had stopped long enough for them to cross, cooperating with the power outage.

Shaking himself free of unwarranted thoughts, he fell into place beside her, wiping his face of any emotion that may have betrayed what he had been thinking.

"So tell me," he said, as they reached the other side of the street and ventured onto the gravel path through the park. "What's it like living with me?"

"Messy, for starters," she said honestly. "And loud. Trust me, if I could afford to be out on my own, I would be."

Derek knew she was only playing. He jogged ahead of her before pivoting around, walking backwards so that he could continue filming her.

"Most women would swoon at the chance to share an apartment with me," he pointed out smugly. "I've been told I'm a real catch."

She ignored his bragging. "Why are you always filming me on that thing?" she asked. "Everytime I turn around, there's a camera in my face. I feel like Bieber."

He laughed. "As long as you don't start acting like him," he said. "You're a pretty interesting subject to film. Your violent mood swings make for fine entertainment."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Care to rephrase that statement?" she said, a request more than a question.

"I never retract my statements."

They entered a stone courtyard with a water fountain at the centre. Dozens of people were milling around- sitting on the edge of the fountain eating lunch, reading, or seated at one of the picnic tables on the outskirts of the cement. On the road about thirty feet in either direction, vehicles continued to speed by, the honking of horns and the buzz of thousands of people making for a typical Toronto bustle.

"Anyway, it's nice to always have some extra footage lying around," he rushed on, though she hadn't asked for further clarification. He always felt a need to defend his interest in her, though he probably went overboard on the defense sometimes.

"You know me, I get low on assignment material," he said. "It's always good to have room to improvise."

"Or you could just do your assignments like a mature third year university student."

He zoomed out, keeping the focus on Casey at the same time. He'd never tell her that he probably had a good eight hours of footage of her, of the two of them just goofing around or walking around town. They were some of his favourite clips to rematch; anytime he managed to catch a little wrestling match or argument on camera, he'd replay it till he knew it by heart. He had a sneaking suspicion that she had seen all of the videos he had taken; he was certain she'd snuck onto his laptop more than once, though he couldn't say for sure.

"We really should be getting back to class," she reminded him, adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder. "I'm sure they have power over there."

Derek opened his mouth to protest, looking thoughtful.

"Don't even think about suggesting we skip class," she said, without even turning to look at him. She knew him like the back of her hand.

Derek's face fell.

"You managed to talk me into skipping class to watch Jackass last week, Derek," she pointed out, sounding embarrassed. "What kind of self respecting university student skips class to watch _Jackass_?"

Derek shrugged. "One with an awesome taste in movies?"

"It's a bunch of grown men in an exaggerated game of Daredevil," she pointed out. "I happen to value getting an education, and I can't afford to miss anymore classes. You realize we pay for this, right?"

He didn't reply, fiddling with the dials on his camera as she rambled on. He rarely listened to her when she got started on a tirade about school. Some things never changed.

"You were off for a week last month with the flu. You still haven't caught up on all of your readings, which I don't understand. I talked to your profs and brought the work home for you."

"You honestly expected me to do schoolwork when I was off sick?" he asked, his voice full of mock shock. "Poor innocent me, unable to even move from my bed…"

"Except to eat, play four hours of video games, and make a mess of the apartment, you mean."

"All necessities, my dear Casey," he grinned. "Studying does not fall under a list of priorities, in my books."

Knowing a losing battle when she seen one, she gave up. No matter how much she nagged him about schoolwork, she knew that she never made a dent in his opinion. She wasn't overly worried; Derek always managed to scrape by somehow. She had a feeling that his film assignments were so well done that no amount of slacking in other areas could sway a professor to fail him.

"Whatever," she dismissed. "Don't study. But if you wind up unemployed and homeless in ten years, don't come sooking to me."

Adjusting her purse, she grinned at him, reaching into her pocket for the car keys. They were parked on the far side of the courtyard.

"Come on, we'd better get going."

And that was when it all went to hell. A deafening, earth shattering blast to his right shocked him into stunned numbness. Before Derek had a chance to register what was happening, he found himself nearly toppling over with shock. He used his free hand to cover his right ear, the other grasping on tight to his video camera as he swivelled around. He had lost all hearing in one ear save for a distant, low ringing.

He froze in place, unsure of what had just happened. With his good ear, he could hear people calling out and screaming as they began to shove past him, running in the direction they'd just come from. The blood had drained from his face, and he felt himself immobilized with shock, his head spinning as his brain tried to process what could possibly be happening.

A second blast rang out only seconds later, closer this time, but sounding distant to his numb and foggy mind.

Casey's hand clamping down on his wrist brought him back to earth, and he felt the reality of the situation come crashing down around him as she nodded to his right, about fifty feet into the distance.

"Right there!" she cried, and he followed her gaze to a man taller than himself, dressed all in black: black boots, black pants, and a black jacket with a hood pulled up around his ears. The hood fell slightly over his eyes, but that was about as far as he had gone to conceal his identity. Not that it mattered; people were running so fast in the opposite direction that no one would have stopped to take a second glance after they caught sight of the handgun he was wielding in his right hand.

Casey tightened her grip on his wrist, but his gaze was fixated on the man in the hood. He had never seen a real, live gun. He had seen crap like this on television; ambulances carting off shooting victims and people huddled in groups, crying and and telling reporters of what they'd witnessed. But that kind of thing didn't happen in real life, did it? It always happened to other people, to someone else, somewhere else.

"Derek, _come on_." Casey's voice was urgent, growing increasingly frightened. "We need to get out of here."

Derek heard her urging him on, felt her hand clamped painfully tight around his wrist, but his feet were rooted to the spot. He heard several more blasts from his right, and out of the corner of his eye he seen a man fall to the ground, but his mind wasn't registering what was happening. There was no way this was real.

"Derek, _please_."

Whether it was that the next gunshot fell too close for comfort, or the pleading and terrified nature of her voice, he didn't know. But he suddenly felt the intensity of the situation come crashing down around him and his senses returned to him, along with a heart-hammering instinct for survival.

He nodded quickly, throwing his camera carelessly into his bag. He fumbled for Casey's hand and squeezed tightly, once, before they took off in a quick run with the crowd. They pushed through a sea of panicking people, Derek barely able to keep a firm grip on her hand as people jostled them back and forth, nearly knocking him off balance in their own desperate efforts to get away. He saw a man scoop up a small, confused child who had been clearly been separated from a parent, and a woman pause to offer a hand to a lady who had tripped. He felt a lump grow in the back of his throat at the small acts of humanity amidst all the chaos.

He heard several more pops, further away now, almost background noise that his mind wasn't fully registering. Despite himself, despite the growing knot of nausea and dread in his stomach, he spared a glance over his shoulder as he ran. What he witnessed was absolute peril. Cars had stopped in the middle of the road, some people attempting to turn back in the other direction and others abandoning their vehicles altogether, favouring their chances of running in the other direction. The power outage had backed traffic up to a standstill at the lights, creating a traffic jam that made for easy targets. In the courtyard, people were scattering in every which direction they could: some were clearly too panicked to even pinpoint which directions the shots were coming from.

As he spied the gunman from the corner of his eye, he seen that he had attempted to cover his face with a black kerchief of some sort; it must have fallen off in the chaos the first time he'd spied him.

His hand in Casey's was the only thing grounding him as he led them through waves of panicked people, struggling to hold onto her as he was shoved in every direction.

He suddenly saw a flash of white, and he cried out in agony as he felt blood well up in his nose, a result of an elbow to the face from a fleeing passerbyer. The impact propelled him backwards, causing him to double over as he clutched his hands over his nose, his entire face numb with the pain. He groaned, glancing down at his hands to see that they were covered with blood. In the back of his mind, he knew he couldn't complain; he was one of the lucky ones.

It was only then, staring at his bloody hands, that he realized he had let go of Casey's hand.

All physical pain wiped from his mind, he jerked upright and swivelled in place, glancing desperately in every direction in search of his stepsister.

"_CASEY!"_

His heart was slamming against his chest, his stomach knotting with panic and nausea as he scanned every face in the crowd, failing to find the one he wanted to see the most.

"Derek?!"

Whirling around, he felt his stomach unclench as he recognized the top of Casey's head through the crowd, about twenty feet away from him. By the look of relief on her face, she had been just as panicked as he had. She probably hadn't realized what had happened to him, only that he had cried out in pain and dropped her hand.

She was standing dead still, and he wanted to call out for her to keep moving, not to wait for him. She needed to run, to get as far away from the shooter as possible. But his entire face was throbbing, and he could taste blood in the back of his throat. He opened his mouth to try and speak, but his mouth fell shut when a gunshot rang out, dangerously closer this time, and he ducked down on instinct. He jerked back up immediately, his gaze returning to the spot where he'd last seen Casey.

She was gone. In his brief moment of instinct, she had disappeared.

Feeling as though he were about to be sick, he lurched forward.

"God no," he muttered to himself, his entire body trembling with shock and panic. "_Casey!_"

Adrenaline kicking in at a whole new level, he pushed his way through the crowd with a strength he hadn't realized he possessed. His heart was crashing against his chest, his mind forcing himself to picture every horrible outcome in which Casey had been hurt. Vaguely, he thought he heard sirens wailing in the distance, thought he heard someone scream and fall to the ground just behind him, but he was immune to his surroundings right now. All that mattered was getting Casey, and getting them both to safety.

Relief flooded through him as he finally spotted her on the ground, looking pained but ultimately okay, all things considering.

Crouching down beside her, he gripped her hand in his own again, unwilling to be separated once more.

"Jesus, Case," he cursed, the relief evident in his voice. "Don't scare me like that. Are you okay? Can you stand?"

He had to shout to be heard, but she had understood him. She was holding tight to her ankle with her spare hand, her face screwed up in pain.

"I'm fine," she dismissed. "I just got knocked down. I'm okay. Help me up?"

Derek rose to his feet, pulling her up with him and giving her hand a quick squeeze, moreso to reassure himself that she was okay, that he had found her. They quickly attempted to break into a run, but it was clear from the hiss of pain that Casey let out that she was far more injured than her adrenaline-fuelled mind was allowing her to realize. Her ankle quickly gave out and she fell forwards, Derek swooping down just in time to catch her. He studied her with concern. In the back of his mind, he recognized that he hadn't heard any gunshots for several long seconds. Was it over?

"Can you walk?" he asked needlessly, because it was obvious that she couldn't.

She shook her head, looking as though it killed her to admit weakness at a time when she desperately needed to be okay.

"My… my ankle," she stammered, cringing. "I don't know if it's broken, or…"

She was cut off by another series of pops, this time much farther behind them, but by no means were they out of danger.

Derek didn't give her a chance to finish her sentence or argue with him. Jolting into instinctive action, he shifted his weight so he was able to lift her up into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself, biting her lip at the obvious pain shooting through her ankle and leg.

"Hold on tight," he instructed, praying that the trembling of his body would allow him to hold her up. He had never been this scared in his entire life.

Tightening his hold on Casey, he pushed his way to the edge of the courtyard, where the crowd had managed to dwindle out, most of them managing to flee down alleys or behind parked cars. And he didn't stop once. He didn't stop when they turned the corner around a building, out of range of the gunfire. He didn't stop when a series of ambulances and police cars nearly crashed to a stop mere feet from where they hurried down the sidewalk. He kept going as fast as his shaky legs would carry him, until they had reached the car. His only intention, his only goal was to get them to safety and as far away from this madness as they could manage.


	2. Hospital Waits

**Chapter 2: Hospital Waits **

Derek paced the length of the hospital emergency room for what felt like the thousandth time, glancing at the swinging doors every couple of seconds. He had initially gone inside with her, but the hospital was in absolute chaos right now and they needed as many people to clear out as possible. Derek's own injuries had been minimal enough not to warrant medical attention of his own, given the circumstances. Casey was lucky to have been seen, and even that had taken hours. He had been shuffling around the emergency room for at least two hours now, waiting for her to remerge. He had been reluctant to leave in the first place, but he knew that she was perfectly fine; even if her ankle was broken, she had gotten off easy, considering.

His nose was throbbing significantly less since he'd popped back a couple of painkillers, and he had managed to do a half-assed job of cleaning the blood off of his face in the tiny washroom sink at the back of the emergency room. There had been no paper towel left- the hospital obviously tending to other important matters right now, and so he'd been forced to wipe his face clean with the sleeve of his jacket. The front of his shirt was caked with dried blood, which he knew without a doubt Casey would complain about cleaning.

He had long ago given up his seat to an older man. The hospital hallways were filled with people on stretchers, the waiting rooms filled with family members and people waiting to be seen for more minor injuries, or other ailments. There wasn't a seat left open, and at least two dozen people were standing, like himself.

Leaning back against the wall, he focused his attention on the ancient television bolted to the ceiling in the corner of the room. Live coverage of the scene of the shooting had been playing all afternoon and into the evening, with reporters parading multiple witnesses and speculating on potential motives and suspects. From what he could tell, they had no leads thus far, attributed to the power outage that had essentially rendered all security cameras useless. A few witnesses had claimed to see the hooded man climb into a car, but the descriptions and accounts had been pretty varied, so far.

License plate numbers were flashing across the scroll at the bottom of the screen, no doubt trying to locate drivers who had fled from their cars and left their vehicles blocking the road.

He watched quietly as the reporter finished interviewing a middle-aged woman, turning back to the camera with a grim expression.

"Once again, I'm reporting live at the corner of Whitten and Main, where a mass shooting occurred just past one o'clock this afternoon. Four people have been confirmed dead, with at least two dozen others sent to hospital with injuries ranging from minor to critical condition. The nearest hospital has reported over twenty-eight victims coming forward with injuries believed to be sustained from this afternoon's shooting."

The camera panned out to show a tired looking, balding police officer standing beside the reporter, hands folded in front of him.

"I've got Officer Moores here with me, spokesperson for the Toronto Police Services." The microphone was directed towards him. "Officer Moores, could you give us a little insight as to what has been uncovered so far in this investigation?"

The police officer looked absolutely exhausted. "We have unconfirmed reports that there may have been as many as three shooters, though I want to stress that this has not been confirmed."

"Can you give us any word on a motive?" the reporter pried.

"No word on a motive. From the demographic of victims hit, it doesn't appear to have been a targeted attack, but it's much too soon to say anything for sure. We're still collecting information from eyewitnesses to see if there's any information that could link us to potential suspects. The power in the area was cut just minutes before the gunfire started, and so video surveillance in the area is limited to non-existent. The power company says the outage was unplanned, and a result of tampering with their system, so we could be dealing with a very well thought out plan."

"I heard some dude got it all on tape."

Derek felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as these words met his ears. He swivelled his head away from the television and glanced over his shoulder across the waiting room. A black-haired man in his thirties, who had been waiting to see a doctor since Derek had arrived, was clutching gauze to a nasty looking wound on his arm. His lip was split, the skin above his upper lip black and blue with bruising. He was chatting to the patient next to him, a blonde woman who appeared to be a friend of his, looking unharmed.

"My brother said he passed some guy with a fancy video camera right before the shooting started. Dude was filming his girlfriend, or something."

"Did he tell the police?" the girl asked, her eyes fixed on the television screen, sounding only half interested. "If there's no video surveillance available from businesses, I'm sure they'll be looking for anyone else who got clips on camera. It's a far shot… but anything helps."

"Yeah, I think he's going to call it in when he gets finished with questioning," he said. "Doesn't want to give it in his eyewitness testimony, you know? Wants to keep anonymous, just in case. He's still pretty freaked."

Derek could feel his heart hammering against his chest, and he knew his face had drained of all blood. What were the chances that they were talking about someone else, some other guy in the park with a camera? There had been tons of people in the park that day, right? But practically everyone used cellphones as cameras these days; he had likely been the only one with a real, actual camera.

He suddenly felt self-conscious, his eyes falling to the camera bag that was resting on the floor next to his feet. This information wasn't public yet, it was all rumours. Surely, the few people who had heard the rumour wouldn't have put two and two together. He didn't even know if he'd managed to catch much of the chaos on camera, or if he'd numbly switched the camera off in his panic. He hadn't even thought to look at his last footage from this afternoon.

Practically stumbling to his feet, he grabbed his camera bag and tore across the room in direction of the small, private washroom. He slammed and locked the door behind him, his chest heaving as he fumbled for the zipper on his bag. He retrieved his camera and with shaking fingers, he flipped the display screen on his camera open. Going into preview mode, he connected his headphones and jammed the earbuds in his ears, praying that he was overreacting, that this would amount to nothing.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed play and watched as the clip started from the beginning, when they'd been waiting at the crosswalk. He briefly noted the lack of traffic lights or business signs lit up in the background; there had been no power. It had seemed so meaningless at the time, but now it stood out as an important feature of the afternoon, a warning sign.

Cursing under his breath, he fast-forwarded the clip ahead, anxious to know just how long he'd kept on filming. The camera skipped through their playful banter, and he slowed things down to normal speed when he seen them approaching the fountain in the park.

"-if you wind up unemployed and homeless in ten years, don't come sooking to me."

He watched as she shifted her bag on her shoulder. He closed his eyes briefly, his heart skipping a beat; he knew exactly what happened next.

"Come on, we'd better get going."

Derek pressed pause then, stopping just before the first shot rang out. He looked past Casey to scan the background of the image carefully, zooming in on everyone he could see in the background. He knew he could get better focus and quality on his computer later tonight, with proper editing tools. But for now, one man in particular stood out to him; the same man they'd seen in the park, clad in all black with a hood pulled up over his head. His right arm was extended, something small and indistinguishable clutched in his hand that Derek assumed was the gun. Minus the gun, he could've been any regular person walking through the park. Nothing about him stood out as odd, aside from the weapon he was wielding.

Frowning, he rewinded a little further back.

"-necessities, my dear Casey. Studying does not fall under a list of priorities, in my books."

He paused again, squinting again at the same figure in the background. The man was leaning against the fence at the far end of the park, his hood down this time to reveal dark black hair that fell over his forehead. He had one hand in his jacket pocket, no doubt clutching the weapon that would soon unleash chaos. It was hard to see any distinguishing features on such a small screen, but the shot was clear. Derek knew, with a mixture of nausea and panic, that he would be able to enhance the image and get a good shot of the man's face.

In this shot, the man was talking to another person who stood next to him. Derek was unsure if this was another gunman or if he was looking at a victim. The second man was pointing towards the fountain; planning, perhaps?

Derek felt a wave of nausea wash over him as he slammed the display screen shut, throwing his camera into his bag hastily. He leaned his head back against the door, his eyes squeezed shut. He knew that the man in the waiting room had been talking about him. Worse, he knew that he was now in possession of concrete evidence against mass murderers, mass murderers who were still walking the streets, probably thinking there was no evidence to connect them to their crime spree. What was worse, was he knew that others had seen him filming and that they were planning on tipping the cops off to the possibility that video surveillance of the crime existed.

Even worse, what if the shooters were clued into what sort of evidence he had in his possession?

And suddenly Derek was on his knees in front of the toilet, camera bag falling to the tile floor as the nausea overwhelmed him and he threw up all the contents of his stomach.

* * *

><p>By the time he had regained his composure and cleaned himself up, the doctors had given Casey the all clear. Only moments after he'd exited the washroom, he spied Casey near triage, chatting with the nurse who had tended to her. He was pleased to see that she was standing on her own and was not sporting a cast.<p>

On shaky legs, he shouldered his bag and made his way towards Casey. He placed his hand beneath her elbow to help balance her, an act which she returned with a tired looking smile.

"I see they managed to save the leg," Derek teased, trying to lighten the mood a little. "No amputation necessary."

"I see a knock to the head didn't damage your sense of humour," she retaliated. "Looks like you managed to clean yourself up pretty well. You know your face is swollen, right?"

"Unimportant," he dismissed, before glancing up at the nurse who had accompanied her. "She's fine?"

The nurse nodded. "No break or fracture showed up on the x-ray but she's definitely got a pretty nasty sprain. We've got her ankle all bandaged up and she should stay off of her feet for a couple of days at least." He directed his next line of speech back to Casey. "That means you should try not to leave the house unless necessary. Just stay seated as much as you can."

He glanced at Derek with a knowing smile. "I'm sure your boyfriend won't mind looking after you for a couple of days."

Derek somehow managed to choke on pure air as he scrambled to correct the nurse, but no words escaped his mouth. Instead, he stood there like an idiot with his mouth hanging open, taking relief only in the fact that Casey looked equally mortified, her cheeks scarlet red.

"Totally not my boyfriend," she somehow managed to choke out. "He's my stepbrother."

Maybe it was his imagination, but Derek thought he'd heard a little extra emphasis on the word _step_. Nonetheless, it was the truth, and he found himself pushing the hopeful thought to the back of his mind as he nodded in agreement.

The nurse glanced back and forth between them for a moment, obviously doubtful, before shrugging.

"Would never have guessed." He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Best of luck to you both. Remember to stay off of that ankle for a couple of days, and don't hesitate to make your stepbrother here do all the hard work."

He winked at them before turning and hurrying back off down the hallway, no doubt to tend to one of the countless other patients in fast track who had been waiting for hours.

A moment of silence passed between them, perhaps fuelled by the awkward tension the nurse's assumption had caused. But in comparison to the rest of their day, the moment quickly seemed insignificant, and they made the silent, unanimous decision to push past it.

Turning to Derek, Casey managed the smallest of mischievous grins.

"Doctor's orders to make Derek do absolutely everything for me," she said to herself, pleased. "Oh the possibilities."

Placing his arm around her waist to steady her, they made their way slowly towards the exit of the emergency room. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder, shaking his head.

"Make jokes all you want. But the second you're back on your feet, you're on your own again," he warned jokingly. "My services are limited to the bare essentials."

Casey cringed as she put a little more weight than intended on her foot.

"We both know you're kidding."

He scowled, annoyed by her reminder of his unfortunate soft side.

"Be quiet and keep walking," he demanded, though there was no malice in his voice. "I've seen turtles move faster than we're going right now." He grinned. "Would you like me to fetch you a wheelchair?"

"I'm not paralyzed, Derek," she reminded him as they walked through the first set of sliding doors. "I'm just a little bit-"

"Incompetent?" he suggested playfully, at which she threw him a dangerous glare. He backtracked, knowing warning signs when he seen them.

"Relax. I'm only kidding," he said. "Haven't you ever heard of sarcasm?"

His question was rhetorical; before she had a chance to answer, he was helping lower her onto the bench outside the emergency room entrance.

"I'll go and pull the car around," he told her. "Considering it would take you until tomorrow morning to walk to the other end of the parking lot."

Casey laughed at him this time, leaning back against the bench and tilting her head back. She was exhausted; he could tell that much just by glancing at her. Try as she might to joke around, they had both been through a huge ordeal today, one that would definitely take a toll. They hadn't eaten anything since their unfortunate excursion earlier that afternoon, and their adrenaline rushes had crashed, leaving their brains foggy and tired. All Derek really wanted right now was a sandwich and a nice warm bed to sleep in.

As he approached the car about halfway across the huge parking lot, he thought briefly to himself that they should swing through a drive-thru and pick up some sandwiches or a couple of burgers. There was no way either one of them was going to want to go home and go through the motions of an everyday routine, not tonight. Not after the life or death ordeal they'd suffered through today.

Less than a minute later, he was pulling the car up in front of the drop-off zone. He hopped out of the car, leaving it in park as he jogged towards where Casey was waiting for him. As he approached her, he hesitated, realizing that she wasn't alone.

Standing next to Casey was a man roughly the same age as Derek, though a little bit taller. He was dressed in jeans and a brown leather jacket, one hand shoved into his jacket pocket carelessly. He had close-cropped black hair that framed a handsome face, save for a black eye and a split lip. He was cradling his right wrist to his body, and Derek could see a bandage poking out from beneath the sleeve- a sprain, obviously.

Derek instantly disliked him.

As he came to a stop in front of Casey, he nodded backwards towards the car, pretending not to notice the man.

"Ready to go?"

The man quickly studied Derek up and down, clearly making his own judgements. Derek could see a trace of hesitance in his eyes as he frowned.

"Who are you?"

Derek stood up a little taller,

"The name is Derek," he replied, lifting an eyebrow. "Casey's stepbrother. I think the real question here is who you are."

The man looked slightly more at ease as he shifted on his feet. "Terrence Wilson." He extended a hand to Derek, which Derek shook very begrudgingly. "Got caught up in the chaos today just like you guys. But I guess we're all pretty lucky, huh?"

Derek squinted at him, not saying a word.

"Death toll is up to nine, over thirty injured either through gunfire or the chaos of getting away. Couple of car accidents too, from what I've heard."

"Yeah," Derek said, glancing pointedly back at the car behind him, which was still running. "We all got out easy, I guess." He placed a hand on Casey's elbow, about to direct her towards the car when Terrence spoke up again.

"And what about that guy with the camera everyone is talking about?"

Derek froze, his stomach clenching and turning to pure ice. He knew that he probably looked freaked out, and so he rearranged his features quickly to regain composure, shaking his head as though the conversation were boring him.

"No clue what you're talking about, man."

Gripping Casey's elbow, he nodded towards the car. "We'd better get going," he said, not giving Terrence the chance to make anymore comments that Casey might question later; he had no intention on telling her about the footage, not yet.

"Nice meeting you," he lied, with the most forced polite nod he could have conjured up.

"See you later, Terrence." Casey's smile, at least, was genuine.

He could've sworn that Terrence's eyes flicked back to the car idling at the curb, but before he could look twice to make sure, the lingering glance was gone. Terrence was fixing the pair of them with a charming smile, nodding his head.

"Stay safe."

Derek led Casey back towards the car, but he couldn't stop himself from glancing suspiciously over his shoulder at Terrence, who was watching them go with an almost smug look on his face. Derek felt a knot of unease begin to grow in his stomach, his eyebrows furrowing together as he turned his gaze back to the car, frowning. Something about this guy didn't set well with Derek, and it wasn't just the way that he'd ironically struck up a conversation with Casey in the thirty seconds that Derek had left her alone. The guy had a vibe to him that just didn't feel right, something that stood out as too forced, too pushy.

"Why were you talking to that guy?" he asked, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to talk to strangers?"

He gave the passenger's side handle a good yank; the Prince may still run well, but it was old and it had its downsides. The side door wouldn't open without a good arm wrestle, usually.

Casey shrugged as she eased into the car, extending her injured ankle out as far as she could.

"He seems like a decent guy," she said dismissively, obviously not seeing the big deal. She reached for her seatbelt. "He just asked if I'd been injured in the shooting today. Just friendly chit-chat."

Derek frowned as he closed her door, walking around to his own side of the car. He glanced at Terrence over the roof of the car as he yanked his own door open, and he hesitated when he seen that Terrence had a cellphone held up to his ear. He chatted into the phone but his eyes were fixed on Derek, unwavering, bold. When he seen Derek nodding, he gave a slight nod of the head in greeting.

Derek quickly scrambled into the car, not bothering to put his seatbelt on. He put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb as quickly as he could, wanting to put as much distance between himself and Terrence as he possibly could. Honestly, he would think much clearer when they were back in their own apartment, away from the chaos of the day. Between the shooting, the possibility of having crucial evidence in his possession and now a creepy man who had approached Casey… well, he was feeling a little on edge.

"I need a drink," Derek muttered to himself, shaking his head as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot and onto the main road.

"Hmm?" Casey squinted at him, frowning. "Derek, are you okay?"

"Did he start talking to you after he saw me go to the car?" Derek asked, recalling that the camera bag had been on his shoulder when he'd left Casey sitting on the bench in front of the hospital.

Casey frowned, shrugging. "I don't know." Her forehead creased with confusion at his seemingly irrelevant questions. "Does it really make a difference?"

Derek opened his mouth to push the matter, to try and find an answer that would make him feel a little better about the whole thing. But he just didn't have the energy, and he didn't want to raise any suspicion with her. He knew without a doubt that if Casey knew about the video, she would push for him to turn it into the authorities. And while he knew it was the right thing to do, his mind was on overdrive right now, his brain foggy. He needed time on his own to think about this.

So he clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head. "No, it doesn't matter."

Casey exhaled, staring out her window at the passing evening. "What was he talking about, a guy with a camera?" she asked. "What are the news station saying? I feel like I'm so out of the loop."

Derek's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel hard, frowning.

"No idea," he lied. "Gossip, I guess. You know how these things are."

Casey squinted at him curiously, obviously not buying it. He knew that she could usually see through his lies. But for whatever reason, she decided to drop the matter. Maybe she was just as tired of this day as he was.

Sighing, she leaned forwards in her seat and turned the radio on, tuning into the local news station. She twisted the volume knob, filling the car with the sound of a male reporter, who sounded grave and tired.

"-still live from the scene of the shooting, where the investigation is underway. Motorists are advised of heavy traffic in the surrounding area of the square; avoid unless absolutely necessary. Additionally, police have asked us to remind the general public that the courtyard and its perimeters are closed to the public until the investigation is complete."

Derek bit his lip as they pulled up to a red light. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as Casey listened intently to the report, obviously hungry for details.

"As we discussed earlier, video surveillance of the incident is limited, due to an area-specific power outage that appears to have been the result of tampering. People are asked to come forward with anything they may have seen that could point to a suspect, and we are still hearing unconfirmed reports of a possible vi-"

Derek reached out and stabbed his finger against the first button he came into contact with, which changed the station over to the countdown. The sound of some lame pop-rock band filled the car as Derek sighed with relief, heart racing.

Casey fixed him with an irritated but suspicious look, frowning. "Why did you turn it off? I haven't heard anything all day."

"I'm just sick of listening to it," he said, an excuse that was only a partway lie. "I've been stuck in that waiting room all afternoon. It's starting to get a little bit repetitive."

She didn't look convinced as she reached for the radio again, clearly intent on changing it back.

"One of us was cooped up in a hospital room all afternoon," she reminded him, as though that settled the matter.

Before he could stop her, she had turned the station back to the news network. Derek waited with anxiously held breath, praying that they had moved on. He was relieved when he heard a different voice floating through the speakers this time, the sports announcer releasing the stats from the previous evening's hockey game.

He relaxed again as Casey eyed him curiously, resting her chin against her hand, her elbow propped up against the armrest.

"Nervous much?"

He pressed his mouth into a firm line, remaining silent as they pulled into the parking lot of their apartment building. He pulled into their parking spot, killing the engine. Casey continued to watch him as he reached into the back seat and grabbed his bag, perhaps hoping that he would give some sort of explanation for his odd behaviour. But when he merely opened his door and swung himself out of the car, it became apparent that he wasn't up for chit chat. He hurried around to her side of the car, wrenching her door open and extending a hand to help her out.

Her eyes darted from his hand to his anxious face, and there was a brief moment when he feared she might push the matter further. But it had been a long day, and she seemed to attribute his strange behaviour to the day's hectic and traumatic events.

Taking his hand, she allowed him to lead her through the parking lot and into the building. As they waited patiently for the elevator, she studied him up and down, concern in her eyes. She bit gently on her lip, her next question hesitant.

"You're okay, aren't you?"

He glanced at her sideways, lifting an eyebrow. "Of course I'm okay." He glanced back at the elevator. "It's been a long day. Just drop it, okay?"

She looked skeptical but gave him the benefit of the doubt, shrugging as the elevator opened up with a ding.

"Fine," she dismissed. "But if you are hiding something from me, rest assured that I will find out about it."

He rolled his eyes at her as they stepped into the elevator. "Sure you will."

"I'm a girl," she reminded him, but her voice was teasing now. "We have a natural instinct about these things. You have no secrets from me."

Derek snorted, shaking his head.

'_If only you knew_' he thought to himself as the elevator doors fell shut.

* * *

><p>Derek sat at his computer desk, fingers tangled through his messy hair, pulling on the ends. His tired, bloodshot eyes were glued to the screen of his Macbook, where he had every last frame of the video from this afternoon practically committed to his memory. He had lost count of how many times he had watched and rewatched this video, analyzing every frame, zooming in on on different aspects every time. He had played it in slow motion, panned in from different angles, even flipped it upside down at one point (more so for his own amusement,) and yet he still couldn't figure out what could have possibly sparked this maniac to pull the trigger.<p>

The first shot had been aimed upwards into the sky, a warning shot. That single shot had caused the first wave of panic and uproar. After that first shot, Derek had managed to capture three more gunshots, these ones aimed into the crowd. What really threw Derek for a loop was the random pattern in which he aimed. There was no rhyme or reason, no particular seeking out of targets that Derek could see. The guy had just fired randomly, and Derek was thankful that he hadn't managed to capture any successful shots on camera. He may be a lover of horror movies, but it was entirely different thing to watch a real person get taken out, someone who had been standing mere feet from you that afternoon.

He exhaled deeply, glancing sideways into the living room. Casey had passed out cold on the couch over an hour ago. The moment they'd walked through the front door, she had collapsed onto the couch and she hadn't moved since. Derek had been concerned that she would've gone straight the television to watch the news coverage, but she surprised him when she turned Netflix on and let a comedy play, though neither of them really paid it any attention. He didn't even fight with her over control of the remote. Having forgotten about stopping for food on the way home, they ordered a pizza that they barely touched and she had fallen asleep next to him before the movie even ended.

And so here he was, headphones in, playing the video over and over again. He still had no further answers than he'd had when he started, but he thought that maybe he could take a closer look tomorrow to analyze the role of the second man that the shooter had been talking to. Maybe there really had been more than one of them, that this had been a planned out scheme that involved more than one shooter.

He glanced back at the screen and cringed when he noticed where he had paused, right at the moment the first shot had rang out. The look on Casey's face had changed from carefree annoyance to pure terror in less than a millisecond, and he had been forced to watch that transition far too many times tonight. He absolutely hated it.

Disgusted, he slammed the computer shut and buried his face in his hands. He knew perfectly well that he couldn't pretend this hadn't happened; withholding evidence was illegal, wasn't it? And so many people were desperate for justice, for answers. This video may amount to nothing, but wasn't it worth it to hand it over to the authorities? He had excellent, clear shots of the shooter's faces and he knew it. But something deep down was selfishly stopping him from going forward just yet; perhaps it was mostly based in shock, but a part of him was fearful of the implications of handing over such crucial evidence. What if the wrong person found out he'd helped find those responsible for such a huge crime? Would there be consequences? He wasn't concerned about himself, but Casey's face was all over that video clip. He couldn't risk putting her in any danger.

He laid his head in his arms on the desk, letting his eyes fall shut. He had a lot of tough thinking to do.


End file.
